The Pines Were Quiet
by FortReveuse20
Summary: Loosely AU - After BotFA, the Durin line is gone aside from Lady Dis, King Dain, and numerous cousins. Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews lay in the barren chambers of the castle, untouched for twenty years without decay to their bodies. What will become of the Durin line when magic is involved? **rating could increase to M (Moved to AO3!)


Disclaimer: I do not own anything that Tolkien or Peter Jackson has created.

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Many long years passed and Bofur continued to visit the Durins' graves. This often left the dwarf bound up with darker circles under his eyes and restless, numb legs to wander the reclaimed mountain. There was no joy at dinners anymore; the dwarves of the original journey often ate in bittersome silence or alone with their separate families. It was no secret the death of a revered king-to-be affected the entire mountain, but life still bustled in the streets of a rebuilt Dale and so it went on.

Dis, sister of Thorin, was left in the royal succession line as an unofficial overseer of the mountain; aside from King Dain. Other dwarves from the Company were assigned to aid in council and political matters, yet dare not get in the way of Lady Dis and her chilling remarks about women ruling. This temper was already present in the mature dwarrowdam, yet was brought out, understandably, by the death of the Durin line. She knew well that Erebor sought out a more official leader, or group of them, to take charge once she passed and the family line remain extinct. The death of her two dear sons and brother took their toll on her as the years passed, to the point where she dare not enter their tombs anymore.

She did this even though Thorin's cousin, Dain Ironfoot from the Iron Hills, who valiantly marched alongside his cousin in battle, was King Under The Mountain. However that title remained mostly theoretical when he was not present in Erebor. He still had no wife or queen, no heir as of yet-he was still mourning the death of his son Thorin III-and often became restless doing "borin' kingly duties when action awaited!" so he would take journeys to other kingdoms in diplomacy talks; with more level-headed advisors to calm him during meetings, of course.

But one dwarf was most affected by the death of the Durins, Mister Balin. He was an older, experienced, wiser dwarf...this was true. However, he had plagued memories and an old heart-according to Oin-who watched over him intently as his fever progressed. It was a cool spring morning when it seemed the old dwarf had finally laid to rest. It was likely the progression of an ongoing broken heart at the passing of the dear Durin line.

"Please tell me he's not-" Bofur interjected, staring at the frail, white dwarf lying motionless on the medical cot.

"He is not," Oin quickly confirmed, "he is still alive, still here. He is heartbroken and has been all this time."

Bofur stared as Oin trotted over to the table of herbs nearby, giving Balin and him repeating glances.

"Will he die?"

Oin sighed, within earshot, never turning his back on his fellow dwarf in the room. He paused for a moment, smashing mossy green herbs in a mortar.

"That is uncertain," he stated, swiftly turning on his heels back over to the dwarf who lay motionless on the cot, "we can all but watch over dear old Balin. He loved Thorin as a brother."

Bofur nodded, a small 'aye' passing his lips. He glanced worriedly at Balin on the cot as Oin applied a medical paste to the skin on the older dwarf's pale face.

"There is another matter that should concern Lady Dis, however," Oin stated suddenly, stretching his back upwards with a small crack and walking back over to his herb table. He glanced over his shoulder to a confused Bofur before continuing.

"It has to do with a healer from far away," said Oin blandly, "an old woman has travelled through the docks and far into the city of Dale to see what became of the Durins."

Bofur only furrowed his brows, the familiar hat on his head sinking lower to his forehead.

"Aye...what does she want with their tombs?"

Oin looked over and shrugged. "That is up to Lady Dis to even permit her entrance. I had been meaning to tell you, or her, or one of the others...but I've had my hands full with Balin," he motioned towards the next room, "and some poorly trained archers who shot each other a few nights ago. The bunch of sods."

"When should I tell her?"

"I would say now, lad. The healer arrived jus' this mornin'."

Bofur said nothing more before obediently leaving the infirmary and back into the stony walls of the castle. He had many questions to ask, a heat of protectiveness rising in his chest. A part of him did not like the idea of a 'mysterious, old healer' coming far to see a couple of bodies. A couple of bodies that haven't decayed, however. No one really spoke about why there were no bones yet and why their flesh looked as pale and fresh as it did the day they died. Some rumors chalked it up to residue of Smaug's magic, others thought it a curse, others saw it a miracle only Durins seemed to be blessed with. However, one thing was more certain than the sky was blue: Thorin, Fili, and Kili lie dead in their tombs, twenty years later.

Turning corners in the mountain, Bofur was surprised to run into a band of dwarves with Lady Dis herself, communing in a large group. The chatter abruptly stopped and they turned to look at a flustered Bofur, stress lines evident beneath where his hat lay.

"Lady Dis," Bofur breathed, bowing slightly, "apologies for interrupting. Oin informed me 'o some important news for you."

Lady Dis nodded somberly, the joy ever seeming to sink from her features and blue eyes dimming as days passed. She looked at the ground before speaking.

"The healer is already here," she said knowingly, motioning to the company, "that is what we were discussing. However, you just came from the infirmaries...how goes Mister Balin's condition?"

"Not well, my lady," spoke Bofur, removing his hat and gripping it to his chest with a gulp, "things don't seem to look good."

Another sheen seemed to vanish from Dis' vibrant eyes. "I see," she nodded, "we have business with that healer. Let us get over the visit with those dreaded tombs."

The company of dwarves including Gloin, Ori, Nori, and Dwalin. Each, as well as Bofur, followed behind Dis as she strolled through the halls to the chilling crypts.

"Is the healer already there?" asked Bofur, befuddled as he stared at the dwarrowdam.

She glanced at him sideways, ever a stoic expression lay on her features when she walked the halls of Erebor, "She is. I would like very much to see what her inquiries are on my family."

The tone in her voice was sharp and chilling. It wasn't unlike Dis to have an edge in her voice, especially after the passing of her boys and brother, but she seemed truly peeved to have any outsiders bringing up old memories or questions about her lineage. The company of dwarves were understanding and aware that the anger and snark were not directed at them, it was commonplace for a grieving mother and sister. A decade ago was when they stopped attempts to make Lady Dis laugh. Her somber energy carried through to the bone and it did not seem to stop at any attempt, except when the day would come when she would finally lay with her boys.

The healer met them expectantly with an odd aura around her crimson and black-embedded cloak. Her hood covered most of her head, with shaggy gray ends poking out at each side. She was no dwarf, no elf, the logical assumption being she was human yet something else.

In the tombs, the healer glanced at the dwarven company before hovering over the three lined tombs of the Durin men.

"I believe you wanted to speak to me about this," Lady Dis announced. Her voice was loud, proud, and mildly peeved with the healer for so advertently going about the room and observing each feature of her resting kin. She never wanted to set foot in the crypts again, yet there Dis was, leaving a guest of Erebor unsupervised with her loved ones.

"This is a sacred place," Nori protested. The healer woman paid none of them any mind, instead stepping around the room to each corner of each tomb where the Durin men lay atop their stone graves. She observed their faces, bodies, clothing, each one without touching a single thing.

"They are gone," Lady Dis stated, "there is no business here pokin' around, causin' disrespect to our fami-"

"I do not intend to cause your name disrespect, my lady." The voice of the healer was not that of an old woman, it was strong and mature, wise yet playful. She never broke eye contact between the Durin bodies and those of the dwarves standing in front of the entrance.

The healer stopped in front of Thorin for several seconds, dazed at the arkenstone resting in his grip. "No one has tried to take this from him?"

"They know better," Dwalin replied, firming the grip around his own fingers in a mild frustration, "the city respects its king."

"Aye," the woman trailed off, observing again the motionless form of Thorin, "but do you dwarves even know the significance of your own gold, your own stones and magic that come of it?"

A long pause laid in the air as the company eyes her curiously, mouths slightly open trying to comprehend her cryptic question.

"We do," said Dis, "there is much history between my brother and the stone that lay in his hand. Much history. It must be remembered by placing it with him."

The woman finally turned to stare at the company, deep and dark eyes peered at them with reflections of the torches hanging on the walls. She stood up a little straighter, her expression never giving way to any sort of emotion except for vague curiosity. She looked quickly at the arkenstone then turned to face the dwarves.

"They are not dead."

The words were spoke plain as day, no joke to be found nor humor in her eyes. The dwarves did not look away from her, despite agitation and disbelief carried through their faces.

"They are dead!" it was the quiet Ori to speak up this time, with a new vigor in his voice as he found his chest rising in defense to the ones he used to call friends, "can you not recognize resting bodies when you see one, witch ?"

Bofur laid a firm grip on the young dwarf's shoulder, giving him a warning look to his sudden temper and tongue before dragging him back a step and clearing his throat apologetically.

"Miss," said Bofur, "we mean no disrespect, an' we sure don' expect you do either...however the line of Durin is broken. I am not sure why you would make such a statement."

The cloaked woman did not flinch. She peered over at the arkenstone as it glowed eternally bright in Thorin's lifeless grasp.

"On a summer dawn they will rise, they will need seeing to their injuries," she spoke, the company murmuring out of agitation with her cryptic riddles again, "the line of Durin will rise again and I think you have that stone to thank."

When the dwarves did not respond, the woman continued, turning to the tombs once again, "Have you not wondered why their bodies lay cold, skin still hanging to their bones, and no part of them vanishing as it should when one dies?"

There was a brief raise of the brow and a slight sense of humor in her voice, "have you dwarves ever thought that perhaps there are legends, secrets on ancient tablets in hidden faraway lands that speak greatly about the return of the line of Durin?"

Sensing the glares and angry spurs being whispered to her by the company, the old healer moved passed them to the entrance, motioning with her head to the bodies once more before taking her leave of Erebor.

"I will leave this mountain, and with my leave a king will rise once more."

The dwarves remained motionless in the entrance of the crypt as the cloaked woman strolled past them with an icy, emotionless air. Dis stared at the dwarves, rubbing her hands together nervously as she did in times of distress.

"My lady, I apologize that this was a waste of your time," Bofur spoke softly, apologetically, as he laid a careful hand on her shoulder when the company began to leave the room.

Dis merely nodded at him, enough to signal that she intended to stay with her family a moment longer. The howling winds at the roof of the stones echoed throughout the room along with the sound of fire burning on the torches. Dis stared expressionless at her brother...her beloved boys, before settling on the arkenstone. Its hazy glow had her encompassed for several seconds before realizing her stare was too long. Her mouth lay open slightly before becoming aware and forcing herself with an improved posture, and a huff through her nose, to swallow everything she was feeling and hurry out of the tomb to the join the others down the hall.

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A/N: Forgive me for not memorizing or following all lore associated with races, or general lore: as the whole premise is very layered and detailed (not a bad thing!). I have not read the books, only did internet searches for what they were about in comparison of the movies, and base most of this around Peter Jackson. However the elements do primarily belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I wanted to include previous characters from the movies primarily in a sort of alternate universe fic-including inevitable creation of OCs.

***important side note; please read: Please let me know what you think about a Dragon Age (video game) crossover. It would be general and not lore-heavy. I was thinking about doing that but it's a risk and I'm undecided. Primarily, however, it would focus more on Middle Earth lore and characters than Dragon Age. Let me know what you think before I continue; as chapter two will introduce my original characters, background on them, and is rather detailed as it is.

The poll for this dilemma is on my profile. Thank you for reading.


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